


Snow in July

by Idjit_01



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Could Be Canon, Eating Disorders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt, I can't believe that isn't a tag, Insomnia, My First Work in This Fandom, Sheriff Stilinki is a good dad, Snow, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:29:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28644480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idjit_01/pseuds/Idjit_01
Summary: After two months of normalcy it starts snowing out of no where. And it's July.It takes Stiles by surprise. There are no clues, nothing to find out what's going on. As his anxiety keeps spiking, his dad comes up to him and they have a talk.
Relationships: Sheriff Stilinski & Stiles Stilinski
Kudos: 18





	Snow in July

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the snow outside my window. It hadn't snowed where I live in years, and suddenly it's started snowing and apparently i's the biggest snow storm there's been here in over forty years.
> 
> I've also been watching Teen Wolf seasons 5 and 6 (I'm still not done, so please no spoilers) and I had to write something about Stiles relationship with his dad. 
> 
> I hope you like it :)   
> Let me know if you want.

It's snowing. 

That'd be normal in Beacon Hills if it was winter and it had been cold for a while, but it's July and it was already too hot for a jumper two weeks ago.

The Jeep gave up two miles back, and Stiles has been slowly turning into an ice cube ever since.

By the time he gets to the front door he's damp, his teeth are chattering and he could break everything in sight if it weren't for the chill in his bones that barely allows him movement enough to search for heat.

"Dad?" He tried to holler when he gets past the threshold, but no one answers. He must be at the station.

He makes his way as quick as he can with his shivering barely-responding body up the stairs and into the shower.

He shreds his clothes from himself quickly leaving a small pool of water behind him. Without the wet clothes weighing him down he feels a lot lighter.

_But not light enough._

He shivers harder.

The water burns him when he gets under the stream. He'd jump, but he barely has the energy to flinch. He's so tired.

There hasn't been any supernatural mishap in Beacon Hills for at least two months, so of course, now's the time for it. The pack was getting antsy anyways. Two months is a long time for things not to tip to a side of the balance between greatness and catastrophy.

To be truthful, Stiles hasn't been able to sleep for a few days. They could all tell somehow that something was coming. That's just _how he copes_.

Now it's snowing in July and people are getting hurt in their dreams and no one has a clue about what's going on.

He thinks about Allison and Aiden and everyone they've lost and soon the trembling of his hands and the shakiness of his hands as they turn into his father and his friends in his mind has nothing to do with the low temperature outside the room.

By the time the water's turned cold his already worked himself into a frenzie. Stiles startles when the shampoo bottle hits his foot and tried to control his breath.

He looks down at his hands and count. One, two, three, for, five. One, two three, four, five.

Nothing's wrong. He's awake. They're still alive. It's going to be alright.

He shuts the water and wraps his towel around him sloppily.

His hands aren't really steady anymore. But it's okay, they haven't been for a while. Not just because of the cold, or the anxiety, or the ADHD. They just have been. He's used to it.

He tiptoes to his room because the floor is as freezing as the chill he's escaped from when he got there. 

While Stiles dresses, he can't stop thinking about what to do next. There are no clues, no crime scenes, no mortal victims. Just cold and fear and hurt.

The pack's a no go for a while. Scott's away on some veterinarian internship that only lasts six weeks. He wouldn't leave longer, not without his pack. Lydia's spending some very-needed time with her grandmother's heirlooms and everyone else is just doing their own thing.

They met up when it started snowing, but Scott's back in three days and they won't really do anything until then. They haven't anything to go on anyways.

Maybe, he could study mythology related to natural disasters and the weather? Spend some more time studying the beastiary? Or maybe he should revise the victims reports again? He has memorized him, but maybe he missed something.

The gnawing pain in his stomach shakes him away from his thoughts. The cold and the hunger get too much and he has to do something about it.

Stiles walks down to the kitchen in the fuzziest warmest socks he owns. They've got Wolf ears and a blue-eyed growling wold on them. They were a gift from Scott, as a joke, after way too many remarks and the-weakness-of-being-the-only-human-one-jokes. He kept them anyways. 

He's heating the water up to make tea, because coffee makes his anxiety spike and hot chocolate has way too many fats and sugars and _calories_.

"Since when do you like tea?"

This time Stiles does jump and brings his hand towards his heart as he turns around.

"Jesus, dad!" He yelps, but it sound kind of weak to his ears.

His dad is leaning against the doorway. He gives him a half smile.

Then Stiles' Dad walks to the kitchen table and sits heavily, sighing as he sits and briefly closing his eyes.

Stiles waits for his tea to spread through the water before he takes it and joins his dad at the table.

"Long day at work?"

Stiles' Dad shrugs and sighs again. 

"You know I can't share that information with you. It's confidential." 

Stiles rolls his eyes and smiles. They both know he'll know if it's something important anyways. After a minute Stiles' Dad props himself on his elbows and looks at him.

"You know you can talk to me, right?"

Stiles's taken aback by the question. He blinks.

Before he says anything else, Stiles' Dad reaches around him and takes something out of a bag.

"I almost forgot. I brought you curly fries." He leaves them before Stiles and takes his own burger and fries out.

Stiles look at the fries. They're greasy and crispy and colesterol-high and everything neither of them should have. It brings tears to his eyes. He doesn't let them spill.

"Thanks, dad." He mutters, breath already unsteady and mind spinning erratically.

Stiles' Dad eats as silence spreads through the room. Stiles wishes the silence would also spread into his mind, quieting his thoughts and worries.

"Your food's getting cold." Stiles' Dad says between bites.

"Yeah," Stiles whispers. But he can't even bring himself to drink his tea. He can't swallow right now; his throat feels like it's being tightened and it burns with the effort of the unspilled tears.

"Y'know," Stiles' Dad speaks up when he's done. "I know I'm not much help with all your werewolf supernatural magical stuff," he says, wildly moving his hands around before leaving them on the table; a silent invitation for Stiles to take them if he wants. "And that I'm not around a lot with work, but I can still help you. You are still my son."

Stiles nods, but doesn't talk. He can't. He rubs his eyes with the heel of his right hand. He's not gonna cry.

"And I know something's wrong." Stiles breath catches. "I know you are having trouble sleeping again. And... Struggling with... Other stuff." He adds, pointedly looking at his shaking hands. 

"I-" Stiles tries.

"After your mom-" Stiles' Dad starts, but his voice breaks. Then he looks up and look Stiles in the eyes. "I need to know what's going on with you." 

After a moment of silence Stiles' Dad stands up and takes the whiskey out of the cabinet. "I can't have you dying too." He whispers as he pours himself a finger of the substance in a glass.

Stiles nods fervently and shakes his head to hold the tears in.

"Yeah-" He whispers. He clears his throat and looks away. He takes a sip of tea. He grimaces. It's cold already. "I'm taking them to my room." He announces. "I have to do research because of the snow and- Yeah." 

He stands up shakily, and he genuinely doesn't know why he's shaking now. 

"Stiles," Stiles' Dad loudly calls as Stiles takes his drink and the food and speed-walks away. "I'm trying to extend your life. Could you just eat it, please?"

Stiles nods without turning around. He doesn't want to lie to his dad. "Yeah."

He hears his dad clear his throat and shuffle through something. When he hears his dad's chair creaking and the crinkling of papers he remembers himself and goes to his room. 

The moment he gets in his room he closes his door, throws the food into the garbage and lets the breath he was holding out. He tumbles into a sitting position as he struggles to breath and screams into the palms of his hands. 

As he gets dizzy and everything feels like it's tumbling down he feels something cold on his face and looks up.

He breathes slowly a few times, trying to catch his breath, as he tried to focus enough to see snow getting into his room through the open window.

Stiles stands up and closes it as fast as he can, fingers barely cooperating with the lock.

He sits back and shakily breathes.

He's so tired. Maybe... Maybe he'll take a nap.

The mystery of snow can wait for a while.

As he lays down and closes his eyes his mind races through the possibilities. He groans and stands up. There's no way he's going to be able to sleep. 

It's okay. Won't be the first time.

He stands up and turns his computer on. He _needs_ to do some research. _He_ 's the one who's supposed to come up with the plans.


End file.
